Bard’s Fantasy League Picks

When Z-Man debuted with BG East 3 months ago, a regular reader emailed me to let me know just how excited he was by this news. He immediately speculated on who from the BG East roster Z-Man should wrestle next. Turns out, he hit the nail right on the head, proposing that a Z-Man v Kid Karisma bout would be over the top arousing.

Of course, now we know, Z-Man followed up his mat debut with BG East with a pro ring muscle match against none other than Kid K. Nice call, savvy neverland reader! And your prediction that a Z-Man v Kid K match would be smokin’ was perfect prognostication.

From a different angle, Cage Thunder recently called out both BG East rookie Austin Cooper AND proposed a detailed ring match scenario against Austin’s rookie buddy, Jake Jenkins. I’ve got a major league crush on Jake,  so Cage’s proposal to face him in the ring is fueling my imagination. Jake in white trunks with pale blue trim, then 30 minutes after stepping into the ring with Cage, stripped naked, pounded into a daze and helpless in Cage’s skilled hands… well, this concept is pure gold, in my estimation.

All of this speculation, proposal and prognostication sheds light on what I assume must be a nearly universal mental exercise that wrestling kinsters play: the fantasy homoerotic wrestling card. At least, I’ve been playing that game for as long as I’ve been erotically captivated by wrestling. I love that these virtual connections available to us now, like blogs and emails, give us the opportunity to compare notes. So, in addition to a Cage on Jake Jenkins ring strip battle, here are the current top 3 fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches on my scorecard:

Lon Dumont v Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!)

I’ve fantasized about this combination long and hard. Not only would this settle once and for all the question of who deserves the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division (but remember, it’s about who turns me on the most, not necessarily who “wins”), I also think this would be an absolutely amazing mash-up of two delightfully different sets of assets.

Thiago Diaz v Brad Rochelle
I haven’t even had an opportunity to see if Thiago has anything at all to offer in the wrestling ring other than that fantasyman bod and that hefty package dangling between his legs, but I’m already lining him up for some rookie initiation. The return of Brad has been a long-held aching fantasy of mine (and many others, I know), and I think Brad working over Thiago’s muscles from top to bottom would be an earth-shaking combination of veteran fan favorite with jaw dropping rookie sensation.

First of all, Kid V partnering with Rafe Sanchez has long haunted my homoerotic wrestling dreams. Second, I’ve nursed a whole lot of lust for a PG-to-R-rated evolution of the careers of pretty, innocent, eager muscle boys Cody and Travis. I picture this as both a coming-of-age wrestling scenario for the bright-eyed boys as well as Rafe’s first apprenticeship match, learning from the master of sadism himself.

What are your fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches of choice?

Asses Named

I think I must study homoerotic wrestlers’ asses more compulsively than you. Or, perhaps, you just played yesterday’s game of Name that Ass at home, rather than drop a comment here. In either case, topher and Jose D. get smiley faces on their homework for excellent effort, with Jose D. getting an extra star on his for correctly naming (if tentatively) 4 out of 5 of the asses. For the record, and for you playing at home, here were the correct answers:

Ass #1 belongs to the top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy: BG East’s Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you! and extra credit to Jose D. for mentioning this fact). I figured this might pose a challenge because, seriously, it’s an uphill battle to try to tear your eyes away from Mr. J’s mammoth package to appreciate his remarkably beautiful assets elsewhere. I think the best shot of his fantastic, sweaty, hard muscled glutes show up when he’s stripped to his thong in his match with Rocco in Jobberpalooza 7. True, Mr. J is completely bare-assed at the hands of Brooklyn Bodywrecker in Mr. J’s Wrestler Spotlight, but this is mostly smoke and mirrors, and I remain bitter at being personally taunted by BBW at the end of this bout (well, not me personally, but all of us suckered into snapping this piece up to see Mr. J’s naked piece… doesn’t happen). Mr. J pulling out some thonged ass domination on Rocco, for my taste, is the best for ogling his carved, round muscle glutes.

Ass #2 from yesterday’s game belongs to Rock Hard Wrestling rookie sensation, Travis Storm. I like Travis. A lot. His teeth attract my attention first. His got a major mouthful of them. A close second favorite attribute of the rookie his is sweet, round ass. Jose D., wracking up extra credit after extra credit, correctly noted that yesterday’s pic #2 comes from Travis’ delightful match against the butt-fantastic likes of Cody Nelson. Travis’ deep-seated camel clutch on Cody is like a clash of Titans, as lucious mounds of muscle press against luscious mounds of muscle. I will pay to see more of Travis’ gorgeous ass, and there are two ways of interpreting that statement, and both are equally accurate.

Ass #3 from Name That Ass belongs to another homoerotic wrestling rookie desperately in need of another match: Can-Am’s Landon Mycles. Jose D. gets partial credit for naming Landon, but only tentatively. There’s nothing tentative about Landon’s hot, hairy, blond naked ass in Pro Sex Fight 1 against Michael Vineland. If this pornboy does not turn up naked and soaked in sweat in the ring again, this will be a crime against wrestling kink nature. Landon was a one-time favorite homoerotic wrestler of the month, and I have my fingers crossed that someday he’ll have another crack at the title.

Ass #4 was again, tentatively and correctly identified by Jose as belonging to my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Trent Diesel. Damn, I love Trent’s ass. Sure, I love Trent’s everything, but that ass is so aesthetically pleasing. He seems to like to require his vanquished opponent’s to bury their faces deep between those gorgeous cheeks, and while I’m not really up for that with just anyone, Trent would definitely be on my list of boys to rim. Occasionally, Naked Kombat takes the boys into the shower for “round 4,” which is the context for this shot of Trent soaping up across the shower from Ryan Rockford who just beat Trent’s tantalizing ass in oil. Ryan may have come out on top in NK points, but Trent is by far the most entertaining element in this, and nearly all, his matches. Long live the king.

The final ass in my inaugural Name That Ass game (there will be more… I had fun, whether you did or not), stumped even Jose D. Indeed, this ass is featured over at Thunder’s Arena. But it does not belong to Z-Man or Ace Hanson. No, I’d trade even their fine butts for this one. This ass could belong to none other than Mr. Ass-tastic himself, Big Sexy. I first cottoned on to the thrill value packed into Big Sexy’s amazing ass when he showed up as Santa for Thunder’s Arena’s holiday novelty match. In head-to-toe red spandex, there was just no mistaking that the athletic glutes on this man were world class. I’ve since gone fishing through many of the Big Sexy archives, and for my tastes, his #1 asset is displayed most pleasingly in his 2010 appearance against Z-Man for the Halloween Pumpkin match. Holy hell.

So how did you do? Did you beat Jose D.’s score? Perhaps more clues will be in order next time around.  Till then, you’ll have to practice. Watch lots (and I mean LOTS) of homoerotic wrestling, paying particular attention to the fine, fine, muscle asses you see. Good luck.

Blindingly Pretty

5’11” tall. 170 pounds of fit, lean muscle. A sweat-soaked mop of blond hair. Blue eyes. Pouty lips. A mouthful of bright, white teeth. Some smart-ass (you know I love you, topher) commented recently that I’m not-so-secretly all about pretty boys. I still say that’s not entirely true. But I must admit, Rock Hard Wrestling’s Travis Storm is just so blindingly pretty that I’m helpless to resist him. So I don’t try.



Santa came through a little early, plucking from my Christmas wish list the desire to see a little more white bread Southern charm back in the RHW ring. Like a shiny present tied up with a bow, Travis arrives in RHW’s latest release, taking on the imposing figure of Max Powers (okay, I hate that name). And just in keeping with my last post, I’m happy to report that Travis fills up the front of his supertight shorts nicely.



This was my second tasty feast with Travis as my main course, but this was my first glimpse of Max. From his pics and description, I expected to see a big baddie at play. He’s got the look of a classic pro heel, I think, with his stubble helmet and powerful build. He just looks like he’s someone who takes no shit, somewhat impatient to beat down the next chump in his way, someone who’s typically packing more than enough to crush his opponent, but quick to resent the need to break a sweat. And indeed, Max proves almost immediately that he’s a kick-em-while-their-down sort of punk.



Nice trash talk from both boys. Both boys are adjusting their crotches a lot, which is always nice to see in otherwise straight-up fare. It has to be said, though, that Travis is working precisely twice as hard as Max in selling these 19 minutes.  The hit I get is that Travis actually has some amateur wrestling cred (his bio claims as much), with an accompanying nice sense of balance and awareness of his own body, whereas this is pretty new to Max (I peg him for a high school football hero). As a result, Travis sets the pace, pulls off what finesse there is, sells all sides of the story for both of them, and totally earns the drops of sweat beading off his chin by the end of the final fall.

A few highlights that make me feel just fine about being a little lighter in the wallet include several moments in which Travis is almost literally spinning circles over Max, with the palm of his hand squeezing Max’s mighty glutes. The over-the-knee backbreaker to finish round 2 places Travis on delightful display (he gives up way too quickly, though). Travis repeatedly lifted off his feet in multiple fall 3 bearhugs is just all sorts of enjoyable. But I think my favorite, ever-so-brief moment is when Travis has just worked the shit out of Max, illustrating that he can own his ass at any moment. Max is flat on his stomach, not sure which end is up. Travis is taking half a second to catch his breath, straddling the big boy’s back. And he smashes Max’s face into the canvas by holding him down by the back of the neck. It’s a hot, dominating, just-how-will-I-crush-you-next sort of moment that tweaks my kink and makes me come up for air.

Coming up on the anniversary of RHW’s launch, I feel the need to point out that they’re still working out their own kinks (of a different sort than mine). That is, they’re still working with how to make the most of the astounding high definition quality of their visuals in light of the fact that they’ve got wrestlers often ham-handedly pulling punches. This time around, they’ve got some odd visual post-production edits, with body blows apparently intended to be accentuated by quick cuts or a shaking, “pulsing” camera shot. It’s not as distracting to me as their previous over-reliance on off camera sound effects to make body blows seem louder, but it’s still not nearly as high quality of wrestling production as it is high quality video production. My suggestion (no one asked… just offering…) is just rely less on strikes to tell your story. Particularly now that they’re in a ring where the boys can really lift and slam one another, I think they can sell that sort of high impact move in place of so many stage-strikes, and then pour on more long-held, really hard selling squeezes, claws and scissors (all those luscious pecs and not a claw in sight!? There oughta be a law…). I’d personally sign over a paycheck to experience Travis’ sweaty thighs wrapped around me, so let the boy crush some internal organs and really milk the muscleboys with those long, strong legs!

One way or another, keep this boy coming back for more!

Rookie Delight

I’ve been harping on the notion that homoerotic wrestling may be going to the same well too many times, putting it in danger of growing stale and uninteresting. I can be such a nagging bitch sometimes, can’t I? Just one more blogger who’s ass is firmly planted in the back seat and still trying to drive. Someone needs to give me a knee to the gut, then a headscissors until I just about pass out, followed by a commanding, hard drop across the knee into a prolonged over-the-knee backbreaker (can I suggest Rafe Sanchez would make a good disciplinarian for me?). Sitting here, all smug and certain of myself, it dawns on me that there are actually a lot of new faces showing up in homoerotic wrestling in the past few weeks. I’m not above retracing my steps and giving credit where credit is due. So today, I just want to celebrate a whole lot of new faces that are instantly making my blood pump faster. 

First, and possibly most promising in my book, is Angelo Blanco from BG East’s just released Masked Mayhem 7. So perhaps we can’t call him a new “face,” since he’s masked, but I swear I’ve never seen that long, lithe, sweet and sweaty body before… and I’d remember it. Masks are inherently erotic to me, so Angelo Blanco’s debut in a mask would already be a sweet centering of homoeroticism even if his nicely packed crotch didn’t keep getting in the way in his hard, nasty mat tussle with Skull. His cock seems to be nearly as distracting (and impressive) to him as Joshua Goodman’s is to Mr. Joshua. Angelo Blanco is not exactly a muscleboy, but he’s fantastically fit, oozing sex, clearly turned on by the match, and I’d beg on my knees for the opportunity to get squeezed between those legs and run my hands across that sweaty chest.

I’ve already composed a gushing ode to the new face at Rock Hard Wrestling, Travis Storm, so I won’t belabor the point too much here. In this batch of rookies, Travis runs a close second in my hopes to see him in many, many more matches. He’s a good ol’ Southern boy with great timing, sweet salesmanship on both ends of the stick, and an ass in need of a lingering spanking (and I have two hands free as soon as I finish this post).

I’ve only recently been taking a fresh look at Thunders Arena, so I’m not always clear who are the new faces and who are the faces who are just unfamiliar because I haven’t been keeping track. But I think #3 on my list of new faces I’m lusting after in the current homoerotic wrestling line up is Thunder’s muscleboy, Edge. Cam Mathews is once again the high class hottie pushing another hunky rookie into muscle dominating stardom. I’ve just watched a preview, but his bull dog on Cam, smacking the top of the jobber’s head hard onto the mat, makes my head hurt a little and my crotch tingle a lot. If this battle took place in the ring, I’d pop a blood vessel.
Again, in order of who I’m hoping to see more of or fantasize about facing off with myself is BG East’s Gino Gotti in Gazebo Grapplers 11. It seems a little dangerous to beat the crap out of someone named Gotti, but I’m with Kieran Dunne here when it comes to a focus on  laying this hot Italian stud out and making him cry out in pain. It sounds like Kieran is way to up is own ass to be bothered noticing the astonishing rookie specimen that he’s picking to pieces, which is a crying shame. I’m rooting for someone with better taste to make their introductions to Gotti next.

Again, you’ll forgive me if I’ve got the wrong end on this, but I believe Thunders Arena’s gargantuan muscleboy, STL, is another rookie bringing something new to homoerotic wrestling. There’s something both stunningly handsome and fresh-out-of-diapers about STL’s face that makes its placement on top of that thick, astonishingly powerful body deceptive. I’m captured by the image of me in an STL bearhug, squinting through my tearing eyes directly into his kid-next-door face, and being crushed between his hydraulic arms and those hot, sweaty, beefy pecs.

The last in this current line up of rookies who deserve credit (and their producers who deserve my apologies for overgeneralizing about the unimaginative state of the industry) is the enigmatically named D Fuller, appearing in BG East’s just released Big and Beefy 6. At six feet tall and listed at 215 pounds, this is another massively packed babyface. I’m not sure which gods D should be cursing for being fated to make his ring debut (hooray for fresh ring meat!) again Bulldog Barzini. Even a rookie the size of D would have to be the underdog against the beatdown alpha dog, Barzini. The preview pics of this match ignite a recurring fantasy in my mind of me at ringside, watching the big boy rookie beatdown in person, and at the moment that D is battered, subdued, and and stretched vulnerably and helplessly in Barzini’s clutches, the Bulldog gives me a nod and invites me into the ring for a closer look. D is bitter at the added humiliation, but he’s defenseless as Barzini immobilizes him as I appreciately kick the tires, stroke the upholstery, and take a long, deep whiff of that new rookie smell.

So I’m duly corrected by the evidence at hand. There are some delightful, inspiring, sexy new faces keeping me aroused and my imagination fully engaged in the current options in homoerotic wrestling. Full disclosure, I’ve only seen Angelo Blanco’s match and Travis Storm’s match in its entirety of the rookies mentioned above (which probably accounts for why I rank them #1 and #2 in my lusts and fantasies… I recommend them both). But if the rest of these new boys stick around long enough for my wallet to catch up to them, I’ll be happy to tell you more about what I find.

Teeth for Days

I’m so easily manipulated. I know this about myself. You know it about me. And, more to the point, homoerotic wrestling companies know it. Not me, personally, of course. I’m not quite that much of a narcissist to believe that Rock Hard Wrestling is targeting me, personally, when they dangle a fresh,, blond, blue-eyed, teeth for days, muscleboy with a Southern accent in their newest match. But still, I see the likes of Travis Storm ready to go pec-to-pec with Wyoming farmboy Cody Nelson (I made up the Wyoming farmboy bit… it works for me), and I’m helpless. I watch my hand instantly start to stretch around to my back pocket. I swear, it has a mind of its own, as it grabs my wallet and pulls out my credit card. “Stop it,” I say to my hand. “I need to stick to my budget,” I tell it.

Two hellish download minutes later, and I’m still pleading with my possessed hand. “No!” I say. “I can’t afford it now that RHW has inflated their download prices to $14.95,” I argue. “Stop it!” I insist. Then I see Travis and Cody in a sweet little verbal sparring session that morphs into a posedown and physique comparison. “Stop… I mean, don’t stop,” I find myself wavering. The boys start a shoving match that quickly turns into an opening salvo of hot muscle beatdown from my Wyoming farmboy. Cody hooks his arm between Travis’ legs and scoops the hot young thing up in his arms, his hand cupping the astonishingly fine, tight little ass of the Southern boy in white. Don’t stop, I find myself pleading.

Am I the only one who talks to my hand? Anyway… I realize that one reason I so frequently find myself helpless against the wiles of RHW is that they specialize in ring action. I’m growing into more and more of a specifically ring fetish fan, I think. Another reason I keep taking the plunge with RHW is because in the past nine months or so, while their production quality has remained astonishingly high (multiple HD cameras, excellent angles, extremely skilled editing and packaging), the quality of the wrestling performances has been steadily on the rise. This Cody vs. Travis bout is no exception. Whereas I wanted to personally drop kick Cody’s gorgeous ass out of the ring in his first bout, due to some seriously weak salesmanship at several points, Cody is making undeniable progress. He still has a handful of moments that stretch even my ability to suspend disbelief. A delightful schoolboy pin turns disappointing when Cody proposes to pound the rookie’s pecs with obviously, literally, pulled punches. But overall, Cody has grown quick on his feet, delivering hot verbal humiliation, and showing a command of his opponent’s body that’s easily tripping my homoerotic wrestling kink tastes. I’d still love to see Cody seriously sell his own suffering. On more than one occasion, he’s on the short end of the stick, breathless and writhing on his back, seemingly barely able to move as Travis struts and taunts, and Cody suddenly snaps a quick, measured comeback without any hint of pain in his voice. This is subtle, I know, but it snags my attention.

While Cody appears to be working up a badboy character, including a sweet, pleased-with-himself low blow, I can’t take my eyes off of Travis (which is saying something, considering my well-documented lust for Cody’s ass and nipples). Travis isn’t as big as Cody, despite his early verbal volleys to the contrary. He’s clearly not as strong. He’s not quite as classically handsome. And still, he grabs hold of my attention with both hands and strokes my kink like a seasoned pro. First of all, he has a mouthful of teeth. I know that most of us, literally, have a mouthful of teeth, but just take a look at this boy, and you’ll know what I mean. When he’s strutting and when he’s suffering, he’s got teeth for days and there’s something absolutely gorgeous about that.  He also has a nice command and control of his own body that’s highly entertaining to watch. He has a green edge to him, by all means, but he sells his grunting stomps and kicks even better than Cody. At the point that Cody has Travis legs under his arms and moves to slip him to his stomach to apply one of several Boston Crabs in this match, Travis convincingly fights it for a moment, defying his muscleboy opponent. Finally, Cody twists a fraction harder, and Travis stunningly levitates, flips, and lands with a grunt in a way that makes this potentially throw away moment slick, professional, and absolutely believable. I’ll buy this Travis is a rookie, but only if I also get the backstory that he’s a freaking pro-wrestling prodigy who takes to this like Mozart on the piano.

Cody has two precious moments in this match that are going to continue to haunt my dreams. First, he applies two Boston Crabs over the course of the 20 minutes it takes these boys to settle who’s on top. Here’s where Cody seriously transforms what could be a relatively amateur version of a pro moment into a profoundly arousing homoerotic thrill. He squats low, with Cody’s ankles locked tightly under his arms. Then, with beautiful self-possession, he sticks his chest out, pulls his shoulders back, and pries the muscleboy hips off the canvas beneath him. I just about can’t take my eyes off Travis’ ass in this moment.  Whoever came up with the idea that this stud should go commando underneath his white trunks deserves a major raise (I hope it was Travis). But wait, it’s just a little better than that, even. The second time he snaps on a Boston Crab, squatting in that ass-tastic position, Travis rocks forward and back, over and over, cranking the pressure on Cody’s lower back and relishing every second of his dominance.
Competing for the most hauntingly hot image of this match is Travis snapping on a figure-4 body scissors on Cody that makes the farmboy grunt hard. Completely controlling his opponent’s back, Travis is thrilled with himself, alternating choking with his arms and squeezing the air out of Cody’s lungs with his legs. Another nearly throw away moment has Travis lace his fingers behind his head, leaning back, and doing some quick crunches with Cody squirming and struggling between his legs. My… oh… my….
Travis clearly went to the same wrestling school Cody did, at least so far as he learned that head-scratching version of a schoolboy pec pounding that looks like nothing other than some weak-ass back-handed tapping on Cody’s thick pecs (claw those massive handfuls of meat!!!). But all in all, I’m officially apologizing to my hand right here and now. Hand, you were right all along. This was a match that I’m very happy I didn’t pass up.